Around the Bluhmin’ Town

By

Judy Bluhm

Grief. Is it just another form of love? Perhaps. But love is often about looking forward, towards a bright future. Grief mostly is looking backwards at chapters that have ended. My doctor said that love and loss are two serious “heart conditions,” which are just an unavoidable part of life.

I wear his shirt. Yep, I kept my husband’s favorite blue denim shirt, and I wear it around the house. I walk the dog in this shirt, use it as a light jacket, and might run to the store in it. Worse (please don’t tell anyone) is that I haven’t washed it since Doug died. My girlfriend asked how I am doing and when I told her about “the shirt,” she yelled, “Stop it. You need to wear your own clothes.”

I have walked 500 miles since Doug passed. This is not an exaggeration because I use my smart watch to track my distance. I always loved walking, but now I just keep going. And going. My brother says I might be practicing for a pilgrimage on the Camino de Santiago. I had a good laugh, but who knows?

A colleague of mine just came back from a two-week trip to Paris, accompanied by a rather new girlfriend. I boldly asked him if he fell in love while visiting the “City of Love.” He shrugged and said he wasn’t sure. Then he asked, “Would I even know it if love happened?” I told him I am pretty sure he would know if “love happened.” He asked me to write about it. Well, I am no “love expert,” but here goes.

My horse, Baxter, was a big, Texas ranch horse. His barn- mate was a little filly named Sedona. Baxter was so in love with Sedona that he never wanted to leave her side. He followed her around the pasture, shielded her from other horses, and most days seemed happy to just to watch her. After seven years together, Sedona got a pituitary tumor and became very ill. When she died, Baxter became inconsolable. He kicked the barn, paced the pasture, got an ulcer and his forelock turned pure white. Time did help him.

One of my clients likes to share how she met her husband. She was driving on I-17 southbound from Prescott and heard a loud pop from a flat tire. She pulled over onto the side of the road and recalled saying, “Dear Lord, please send me help.” Minutes later a kind man in a pick-up truck drove up behind her and changed the tire. They shared phone numbers and went out to dinner the next night. Three months later they got married. That was thirty years ago. She likes to say, “We found love on the freeway, but not in the fast lane”

To my colleague who came back from Paris, I’d say I am not sure if love happens on a Seine River cruise. But I am certain it happened in a barn in Skull Valley, over a flat tire on the I-17, and still happens every time I put on a certain denim shirt.

Judy Bluhm is a writer and a local realtor. Contact Judy at [email protected] or visit www.aroundthebluhmintown.com.